


We mustn't make assumptions

by inusagi



Series: We mustn't... [4]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M, Original Male Character - Freeform, Sociopath!Harry, and not seeing what's right in front of their faces, but only in the sense of a recruit, posh boys being snobs, recruit fic, trainer!Eggsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4397267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inusagi/pseuds/inusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A recruit for the Kay position, Benjamin Hastings, can't quite figure Eggsy out--and what his connection is to the mysterious Arthur. </p><p>Alternate or Missing scene from "We mustn't touch what isn't ours."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We mustn't make assumptions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majoline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majoline/gifts).



> This fic is the brainchild of
> 
>  
> 
> [Majoline](http://archiveofourown.org/users/majoline/profile)
> 
>  
> 
> , who was the 50th reviewer of We mustn't touch what isn't ours. (She was also the 100th, if you can believe it.) 
> 
> She requested outside POV, and Harry and Eggsy being caught in flagrante delicto. This is my attempt at that, be it ever so humble. I'm not sure I'm happy with the end result, but I don't reckon time will help that at all, so here we are. 
> 
> As an aside, I do like doing these. They're fun and interactive. I intend to do one for
> 
>  
> 
> [My King a Lost King](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4240530/chapters/9594042)
> 
>  
> 
> if I'm fortunate enough to get that many comment threads there, too. 
> 
> I am amazingly grateful for the feedback I received for WMT, and I hope to continue to live up to your expectations. You guys are great.

Benjamin honestly doesn’t know what to make of their trainer. Everything about him was ridiculous to the extreme—the swagger, the clothes, the horrendous accent—but there was clearly something more significant about him if he was allowed in a place like this. Not to mention the way his arm was securely strapped down whilst his shoulder healed.

At first, he thought he was one of them. He was certainly young enough—Thomas and Elijah were both a bit older, actually—when he paired that with the man’s casual clothes, he couldn’t imagine him as anything else.

His own sponsor, codename Ector, had told him a bit about the organization, particularly what sounded like a well-rehearsed line about suits being the modern gentleman’s armour. Jeans and polo shirts were hardly gleaming chainmail. Winged trainers were hardly even proper shoes, let alone something you’d see in this sort of company.

He’d once seen Ector lounging on the beach in a three-piece suit.

Then the chav introduced himself as _Eggsy_ , of all things, before sending them off to bed like good little ducklings and...Well, that cinched it. There was hardly a Sir Eggsy sat at the round table, between Galahad and Lancelot.

After that, he didn’t have much time to think about the civvie in the secret agent camp, because they were suddenly _fucking drowning_.

☂Ⓚ☂

Benjy had thought, for a few awkward days, that Eggsy was a bit of a poof, but then he’d walked into the library to find him with Lancelot—well, he assumed it was Lancelot, because all he could see of her was her tidy blonde hair. She had her face buried in Eggsy’s shirt and his good arm was wrapped tenderly around her small form.

Good thing, too, because he was starting to feel a bit paranoid about the two-way mirrors _right in front_ of the showers.

It didn’t explain all the winking, though. Perhaps that was a nervous tic.

☂Ⓚ☂

By the time they take their written exam, he figures out that whoever Eggsy is, he has something to do with Arthur.

He sees them together a little too often having quiet conversations in the corridors or standing beside one another in the distance while Benjy and the others run. And run. And run some more.

Eggsy always had a clipboard in his hands, too, and the agents—the proper ones in their proper suits—come find Eggsy when they need to know where to find Arthur.

“Personal Assistant” moves up to the top of Benjamin's list of possibilities.

☂Ⓚ☂

He rather liked Eggsy, truth be told, because he didn’t hide behind pomp and pretention. In a place like this, it was refreshing. If Ector was training them, Ben was pretty confident that they’d never leave the shooting range. If it was Bedivere, God forbid, they’d live in constant fear of stepping on landmines.

Eggsy, however, was a master at casual distraction.

One rainy Tuesday, he takes them for tours of the estate, sprouting Kingsman history as he goes. When they come to what was obviously a ballroom at one point they stop.

“This is one o’ my favourite things in the manor. It’s well cool,” he said, pointing at a truly massive computer screen on the far wall.

On the screen there was a roster of sorts, listing each of the Kingsman agents and their general location in the world.

Benjamin studied the list for agents they’d trained with during their course. Percival was in Panama. Lancelot was in Bangladesh. His godfather was in Morocco, the lucky bastard.

The names Kay, Tristan and Galahad were greyed out. Benjamin wondered if they had all died.

“What happened to them, then?” _Of course_ that little prick Elijah couldn’t resist asking the awkward question.

Eggsy sighed. “Well, ya know Kay died in the line o’ duty—tha’s why you lot are ‘ere. Tristan jus’ got back from a long term gig and is enjoyin’ some well-deserved time off wif ‘is wife.”

“What about Galahad?” piped up a tiny brunette from the back. They’d been at this for months, and Benjy had only heard her speak twice before. He didn’t even know her name.

Eggsy turned his cheerful smile to her and she smiled shyly in return. “Galahad went an’ got ‘isself injured, so he’s out on medical for abou’ anovver month.”

☂Ⓚ☂

Benjamin had exactly no idea how playing Cluedo was meant to help them become master spies, no matter what Eggsy claimed about their deductive reasoning skills, but he didn’t care at all. If he had to run one more lap around this giant bloody house, his legs were going to fall off.

He was pretty sure it was Reverend Green, in the conservatory, with the spanner, and was waiting for Poppy—that shy girl—to finish her turn so he could pop into the room and guess when Arthur came in.

“And what is the purpose of this?”

Eggsy winked at him—who winks at their boss?—and said in his poshest voice, “It’s for fun. You know, that thing that people have when they’re not one foot in the care home.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and looks at the four of them instead. “Watch out. He cheats.”

☂Ⓚ☂

The PA theory started to die a slow death the afternoon Eggsy decided they were shit at sparring and decided to take them on himself.

Reggie, a big black bloke with amazing marksmanship, stepped up with a crack about not taking it easy on the trainer, even if his arm was broken.

Eggsy had him on the mat in under 45 seconds, clutching his bleeding nose and using curse words that would make his mother faint.

He was starting to suspect that Arthur was part shark. The man had an uncanny ability to turn up whenever blood had been spilled, and this was no exception. Almost as soon as Eggsy, sporting a cat-that-got-the-cream grin, had tossed a towel down atop his victim’s bleeding nose, their boss showed up.

Arthur cast a disdainful look at poor Reggie and half-dragged Eggsy into the hallway. The recruits strained to hear, but only snatches of angry words filtered through the concrete walls.

When Eggsy returned, he didn’t look the least bit chastised, sporting instead a fond grin and a what-can-you-do shrug.

Poppy said something too quietly for him to hear from where he was sitting on the sidelines with Elijah, but he was still close enough to see Eggsy wink at her.

☂Ⓚ☂

They had a bit of a pool going.

His money was still on PA, although he didn’t honestly believe it. There was just a _little too much_ familiarity there.

Reggie’s bet was that Eggsy’s Arthur’s son. Which has merit, honestly, but raises more questions than it answers—what’s with the accent, the horrible clothing choices? Why would such blatant nepotism be allowed in an organization that tries to drown people in their sleep to prove themselves? It _would,_ however, explain the creepily affectionate looks Arthur casts his way.

Elijah bet that he’s some sort of handler, some lackey to babysit them until an actual agent is free to really put them to the test—probably after their numbers dwindle sufficiently. But then, Elijah was a bit of knob, so Benjamin felt like his opinion didn’t count for much.

Poppy was adamant that Eggsy was, in fact, really Agent Galahad, but she also thought that he and Arthur were lovers. The three of them laughed at her. _Honestly_ , girls were ridiculous.

☂Ⓚ☂

There were just the two of them, now. Him and Poppy.

After the…incident, Reggie had essentially dropped out, refusing to land on the K target. Benjamin couldn’t blame him, honestly, and if he’d have looked down himself, he’d probably done the same.

The whole programme had a different feel to it. No one liked Elijah, true, but no one wanted to land in the splattered remains of his body.

It was...awful. That was the only word that sprung to mind. He’d thrown up in his Halo suit. Reggie was ranting and raving. Eggsy looked moments away from a mental breakdown. Lancelot looked horrified. Only Poppy seemed calm—well, a bit later, Arthur seemed calm, as well, but Ben supposed that had more to do with his experience than anything.

But _now_ , it was all different. He was frightened, constantly, of what might happen next. Poppy, on the other hand, seemed to have snapped out of whatever bashful shield she’d placed around herself. They hadn’t seen Eggsy in weeks—a sarcastic bald bloke called Merlin had taken his place.

Perhaps Elijah had been right all along.

☂Ⓚ☂

 _Definitely not father and son, then_.

It was the only thought his feeble mind could supply once he walked into the gym, ready to burn off some of his anxiety with a nice run on the treadmill.

There, laying on the mat, was Arthur—immaculate suit barely even ruffled, though his glasses were a wee bit cock-eyed—and Eggsy...Eggsy was _riding their boss_ , wearing only his shirt and the sling around his arm.

He willed his feet to move, to flee, but they refused. He couldn’t stop staring at Eggsy’s face, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. His trainer was _moaning,_ for Christ’s sake, chanting _“Harry, oh fuck, Harry,”_ while Benjamin’s shocked mind struggled to realize that Harry was Arthur’s actual name.

His boss Arthur, always smartly dressed and composed. _Pull yourselves together, it’s just a bit of gore_ Arthur. Arthur who is apparently called Harry of all bloody things and was currently buggering a bloke Ben’s own age in a training gym.

His gaze shifted, quite against his will, to Eggsy’s cock, ruddy and glistening with pre-come. It bounced obscenely with the rhythm of Harry’s— _Arthur’s—_ thrusts. He could just barely see the older man’s slicked-up prick sliding in and out of— _oh, Jesus. Where are the amnesia darts when you need them?_

He was going to find one, as soon as his feet would move. An amnesia dart or a hefty bottle of Scotch. Anything to remove this image from where it was burned on his retinas.

It was Har— _goddamn it—_ Arthur who finally noticed him stood there like a limpet. World-class spies, indeed. The older man jerked up, yelling “ _Shit_!” and knocking Eggsy over onto his shoulder accidentally.

Whatever horrible, voyeuristic thrall was cast over him vanished and he fled like a coward while Arthur’s attention was refocused on his injured lover.

He was halfway to the barracks when he ran into Merlin, who looked as though he was about to collapse into a hysterical fit of laughter.

“I hear you got quite the show.”

Suddenly, Benjy is furious—angry at having had walked in on two blokes shagging like rabbits, angry at this bullshit job interview that throws people out of airplanes with no fucking parachute, angry at the utter lack of fucking transparency about what the hell is going on _at any given moment in this fucking programme._

“You know, we all thought Eli was a fucking knob, but he was right, wasn’t he? You lot prattle on and on about this being the most dangerous job interview in the world, but it’s not like that, is it? It’s only dangerous because you can’t be bothered to have competent fucking agents train us!”

Merlin went very still, all amusement leeched out of him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You left Arthur’s—Arthur’s _toy_ in charge and look what happened! I’m not in this to let nepotism risk my bloody life, and if what I saw in there is how you get hired around here, I’d just as soon bloody walk away now!”

The older man looked down the corridor, then fixed his intense gaze back to Benjamin. “I would strongly advise you to never again say anything of the sort,” he said. “Where Arthur’s personal life is concerned, discretion is the better part of valour.”

“You can’t deny that having Eggsy train us—“

“I can, and I do. Eggsy did a fine job with you lot,” he interrupted. Merlin settled his intense, contemplative gaze on him for an uncomfortable moment before continuing. “Though I find it difficult to believe that, with all the training you’ve been given, you still aren’t able to read between the lines. Eggsy is injured, but still very athletic. He’s kept up with you on runs, and handed you your arse one-handed on the sparring mat, multiple times. He’s right handed, but he demonstrated all of the weapons you’ve trained with using his left, with superb accuracy. I’m not sure there’s a place for you in this organization if you witnessed all that and still concluded that he’s earned his place here on his back.”

Ben bristled under the logic, feeling for all the world like a schoolboy with a dunce cap. He could almost feel his heels digging in and snapped at Merlin without any real conviction. “Oh, come off it. I’ve seen Gawain! I’ve seen Bedivere! I’ve known Ector all my bloody life. You can’t possibly expect me to believe that jumped-up little poof is their equal.”

“No,” said a voice behind him, making Merlin flinch and Ben turn on his heel to face a very unimpressed Arthur. “I expect you to believe he’s better. Galahad is one of the finest Kingsman has to offer.”

Arthur looked, frankly, terrifying, though there was nothing that Ben would be able to put his finger on and say _This! This is how I know Arthur is a psycho who would hang my intestines in his office like drapery! Right there!_

There was _something_ , though, in the way Arthur held himself that made Benjamin take a shaky step backwards and put a quiver in his voice. “Galahad?”

“Eggsy,” Merlin clarifies, moving casually between his boss and the recruit, though judging from the baleful look Arthur turned to Merlin, he hadn’t been as casual as he’d meant to be. “The agent with the highest mission success ratio of any agent in our organization. Injuries notwithstanding.”

Ben watches Merlin meet Arthur’s glare with a teasing look, and wonders if Merlin isn’t a bit mad.

Arthur ignores him. “Injuries, I might add, that have led you to the privilege of being actively trained by an agent.”

There was a rather awkward silence, Arthur practically daring Benjy to utter just one more idiot word, until Merlin’s chirping tablet broke the tension.

“Ah. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen. Percival’s jet lands in Gibraltar in fifteen.”

Merlin disappeared down the corridor without another word, focused solely on tapping away at his tablet.

Ben stepped forward to follow in the handler’s footsteps, not even caring that it was the direction he’d just come from as long as it got him away from Arthur.

The older man was not having any of it, however. He grasped Benjamin’s bicep firmly, and when he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet.

“We mustn’t make assumptions, Mr Hastings. They’re notoriously bad for one’s health.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading  
> [](http://statcounter.com/shopify/)


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